


We'll Get Our Way

by playfullips (dessertmeltdown)



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessertmeltdown/pseuds/playfullips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jon and brendon hadn't parted on great terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Get Our Way

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened when Ryan and Brendon met up at Hooters. Thanks to Lee for the beta.

It’s this weird twist of fate that Brendon runs into Ryan at Hooters. He almost pretends not to even notice that it’s Ryan. He thinks about elbowing Shane in the ribs and saying, “Hey, you know, I think I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go somewhere else.” But instead, Shane elbows him and whispers, “Hey, look who it is,” and then drags Brendon over.

Ryan blinks a few times and then says, “Oh, oh hi,” in that uninterested way he’s always had. Brendon could never really tell if Ryan’s actually uninterested or if he’s trying hard to make it seem that way. It turns out some things never change.

“Yeah, hi.” Brendon smiles, and he’s kind of surprised at how easy it is. “Are you alone?”

Ryan turns his head around, like he’s looking for someone and then says, “Yeah, I am.” Brendon nods and then there’s really not much more to say. Or maybe there’s too much to say and neither one of them really knows where to begin.

“Hey, we should all get a table together.” Shane drags them over to a table and starts fiddling with his phone. “This is crazy, right? It’s been a while.”

“Yep. Yep, a while it’s been,” Brendon nods. He wants to ask about tour, about Z, about how things are. He really wants to ask about Jon, but he doesn’t really know which thing he wants to ask about first.

“How’s the record coming?” Ryan’s still got that monotone, that flat, boring tone, another thing Brendon could never read, right up to the moment when Ryan announced he and Jon were leaving.

“Good. It’s good. We’re recording vocals, you know. There’s -- we’re getting there.” It’s not that it’s been particularly hard without Jon and Ryan, no harder than it was between _Fever_ and _Pretty. Odd._ when nothing sounded or felt right.

“Good.” Ryan nods and glances back again. Brendon wonders if he’s planning an escape.

“How’s -- “ He wants to ask about Jon, but he doesn’t. “-- Z?”

“Good. Great.” Ryan taps his fingers on the table.

“And the rest of the band? The guys -- Jon?”

Ryan nods. “Good.” There’s a brief awkward pause, more awkward than the rest of this conversation has been, even, and then Ryan finally says, “You know he has the same phone number. You could call him.”

“No, I can’t.” Jon and Brendon hadn’t parted on great terms, good terms or even mediocre terms. There had been screaming and crying and terrible things said from both ends. Brendon doesn’t regret parting ways. It had been for the best, musically, but he regrets the way things ended with Jon.

“You actually could.” Ryan looks at him, studies his face for a moment and then says, “He regrets the way it ended too. You’re not the only one.” Right now Brendon really fucking hates the fact that Ryan can read people better than he generally lets on.

“No, it’s all -- “ He flails his hand just as Shane says, “say disco!” and grins. He starts typing away and Brendon already knows this is going to be on twitter in exactly three seconds. “All fucked up.”

“I’m calling Spencer and telling him that you’re an idiot.”

“No you won’t.”

“No, probably not.” Ryan and Spencer aren’t on anything resembling speaking terms. Things between them had ended worse than things between himself and Jon, and that’s saying something. “But seriously. Call him.”

Brendon sighs. “I have to go.”

“You haven’t even ordered anything.” Ryan looks almost amused and it makes Brendon want to punch him.

“I’m not hungry.” Shane just shrugs and follows Brendon out.

***  
It’s raining the day Ran and Jon quit the band (in their words, they are forced out). They say they can’t do it if they can’t do it their way, there’s no compromise good enough. They say they still love Spencer and Brendon, still want the friendships (relationships) to work, but the music. The music just isn’t working, and they have to do this, they have to go. And just like that it’s over. It will be days before Brendon and Spencer sit down and decide that they’re going to do Panic without Ryan and Jon, that they’re not going to start fresh. For now Spencer is glaring, holding back a sarcastic screaming match, and Brendon is looking away, looking at anything but Ryan, anything but _Jon._

Spencer starts, starts calmly telling Ryan he can go fuck himself without actually saying the words. Ryan gets defensive and Brendon feels warm. He feels warm and dizzy, like he’s going to pass out. He needs air.

He gets up and walks out. It’s pouring out, and it’s cold and windy. He just stands in the middle of it, closing his eyes and fighting back the tears that are threatening to come. Not because Ryan and Jon are leaving the band. No one’s surprised, not really. This is a long time coming, and Brendon’s not shocked. But because it feels like Jon is leaving _him._

“It’s not -- “ Brendon turns around and sees Jon standing in the doorway. “I’m not leaving you. It’s not about you. Us.”

“Isn’t it?” Brendon doesn’t really know what he’s saying. The words are just coming out faster than he can even think about stopping them. “You picked him. Over me. You -- I. Fuck you, Jon.”

“But you knew, Brendon. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

“And don’t tell me you actually believe that if you and Ryan do you’re own thing, this doesn’t end.” Brendon waits for a reply, but nothing comes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck it, it was just casual right? Nothing serious.” Jon steps closer and reaches out for Brendon’s arm, but Brendon flinches and jumps just out of reach. “Don’t fucking touch me. Just go, Jon. Go stay with Ryan and get fucked up every night and then write music. Fuck him, too, for all I care. And then when you’re done with that, get the fuck back to Chicago. Say hi to your cats for me.”

“Bren--”

“No, Jon. It’s done. It’s just fucking -- Just go.”

Jon looks like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He just nods and then ducks back inside.

***

It’s been a couple of weeks since Brendon ran into Ryan, and Brendon can’t stop wondering what would happen if he just texted Jon already. It’s not even like it has to be a big deal. A how are you, how’s life treating you, how are the cats, anything simple and breezy. But it feels awkward and stilted every time he tries, and nothing comes out the way he wants it to. So he doesn’t.

And then it happens. It’s random, out of the blue, and Brendon has a hard time believing that it’s not a dream. He wakes up and his phone is blinking. He’s sure it’ll be Spencer or Shane because it’s always Spencer or Shane, but it’s not. It’s a number that’s not in his phone anymore but one that he recognizes all the same. He hovers over the read button for a moment before finally pushing it.

It’s a short message. Just the word ‘ _hey_ ’ and then nothing else. Brendon’s not sure how to respond. Or when to respond. How soon is too soon? How long before he doesn’t seem too eager? He settles on a short, simple, _hi_ , but he waits a couple of hours to send it.

It goes back and forth like that for a while, just easy, short messages of how they’re doing, what they’re doing, how are the cats, how’s the dog, nothing complex and nothing emotional. Brendon’s not really sure if he’s ready for more than that anyway, so he’s thankful that Jon doesn’t seem to be either.

And then his phone rings. It’s spectacular how he manages to toss it up in the air and then fail to catch it before answering it just in time.

“Jon?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. “Yeah. Hi. It’s me.” There’s another long pause. Brendon has no idea what to say and it’s apparent that Jon really doesn’t either. “Are you busy?”

“Me? No. Everyone’s busy with girlfriends or whatever. I’m just -- “ Brendon pauses. “You know. I’m here.”

He can almost see Jon’s awkward nod. “I mean -- yeah, great. Cool.” Another awkward pause. “This is -- sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, you -- it’s good. It’s -- I’m glad you did.” It feels like the right thing to say. It’s stilted and awkward and neither of them knows what to say, but it’s something. It feels like some kind of progress.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

No one says anything for a long time and then finally Jon says, “I have another phone call. So I should -- I’ll -- Later.” The line goes dead before Brendon can say anything, and he’s pretty sure that there wasn’t really anyone calling Jon.

**  
Brendon doesn’t know what makes him do it. Maybe it’s the fact that Spencer keeps calling him pathetic or that Shane and Reagan both keep giving him these incredibly sad looks and then whispering to each other. Brendon’s not sure, but something makes him go online at 1am and buy a ticket to Chicago for the next morning at 11am.

Come to think of it, it’s probably the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

He books the ticket and sets an alarm and then passes out.

***

Brendon wakes up to the most obnoxious, loud beeping sound at 8am. He scrambles to find it and kill it before he realizes that it’s his alarm. And that he is really really hungover. He searches for his phone and then sees the printed flight itinerary.

He bought a plane ticket last night. To Chicago.

He’s going to hyperventilate. He’s going to pass out. He needs to change clothes. He throws on something that smells moderately clean and throws it on. He then throws a couple of days worth of clothes in a dufflebag and shoots a text to Spencer and Shane to tell there where he’s going.

Then he turns off his phone so that they can’t talk him out of it. He should really let someone talk him out of it. He should be talking himself out of it. One awkward conversation after over a year of not speaking, after a year of whatever their relationship, and Brendon’s dropping everything to go to Chicago. It’s crazy. So crazy. But now that Brendon has the ticket it’s hard to talk himself out of going and it’s not long before he’s sitting on the plane, eating peanuts.

***

It’s pouring down rain in Chicago. The plane circles the airport for like two hours and then finally lands. And then Brendon realizes that he doesn’t even know where Jon lives now. He’d heard that he’s moved but he has no idea where to, and Brendon really didn’t think this through well. He turns on his phone to about ten voicemails and twenty texts and ignores all of them. Instead he calls Ryan. He doesn’t know why Ryan instead of Jon but he calls Ryan.

It’s awkward but he asks for Jon’s address and Ryan says, “thank fucking god, finally,” and gives him a street number.

Brendon catches a cab. It takes approximately forever in the rain and traffic. The house is smaller than Jon’s last one but the yard is bigger and there’s a porch swing. It’s nice. Brendon shuffles his feet at the door and then rings the doorbell. He hears a shuffling inside and then. He can’t. He turns around and walks out to the driveway, but the taxi is gone.

So Brendon just stands at the end of the driveway in the rain. He has no idea what he was thinking, but he’s never drinking again. It leads to hangovers and plane tickets to see exes he hasn’t seen in over a year.

“Brendon?” Jon sounds this strange mix of shocked and thrilled and scared and Brendon doesn’t know what to think. “What are you -- “

Brendon turns around. “Jon. Hi. I was -- you know. I was in the neighborhood. And I just -- hi. Hi.”

“Hi.” Jon bounces on his heels. “You’re wet. Come inside.”

“No. I really -- I should go. Lots of plans. Lots of -- you know. Places to go, people to see. Whatever.”

Jon walks into the driveway, right in front of Brendon. He seems thinner, taller. His hair is longer, and it’s not like Brendon hasn’t seen pictures. He knew what to expect. But it’s different seeing it in person. Jon stands in front of him and just stares, and Brendon doesn’t know what to do. There are so many things unsaid between them. There’s too much when all Brendon really wants to know right now is if Jon’s lips still feel the same on his, if he still tastes the same, feels the same, sounds the same.

“Hi.” Jon wraps his hands around Brendon’s wrists and presses against him, pushing his forehead against Brendon’s and closing his eyes. “Hi.”

Brendon can’t even speak. This feels so familiar and so right and so complicated. Brendon closes the gap. He kisses Jon, nothing too intense, just a press of lips, and wraps his arms around Jon’s neck. “I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper. Brendon’s not even sure he says it out loud.

And then Jon says, “I missed you too. I wanted to call you every day, Brendon. Every single day.”

Brendon doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just says, “It’s raining.”

Jon laughs. “It is. Come inside.”

Brendon doesn’t know what’s going to happen once they go inside. He knows everything doesn’t dissolve. The year that’s passed, the way it ended, everything they had before, none of it goes away. But this, right now, feels like the beginning of something.


End file.
